


Lion Taming

by Ashesintheair



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Oral, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesintheair/pseuds/Ashesintheair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victory makes the Wolf Queen's blood run hot and she has a little fun with her Lord Commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lion Taming

The Wolf Queen paced in her pavilion. Food had been brought to her and taken away again, untouched. She didn’t need food. She needed victory. They called her queen, they praised her and swore allegiance, but it meant nothing until her enemies were dead at her feet. Another victory put her a step closer to the throne in fact, instead of name. Words were wind but names were even less than that. She knew how easily they were changed. 

It was still light when her Lord Commander came to her. He moved with grace, even after a day of bloody battle, even without the hand that had made him notorious. There were odd flickers still, of the man he had been, the golden knight, and it appealed to the part of her that had once loved songs. The man he was now, wounded and hardened at the edges, was what the Wolf Queen loved. The Wolf Queen loved the fight, and winning, and any piece in her hand that could be turned to those ends.

Jaime Lannister knelt at her feet. There was no talk of the war. The silence meant victory, for now. No talk of winning until we take the Red Keep, those had been her words.

“Your Grace.”

She said nothing, tilting her head in a little acknowledgement, and pushed one hand through his hair until her fingers curved around the back of his head and pulled him in close. His forehead rested easily against the slight swell of her stomach and he pressed his face against the wool until she could feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric.

She was courting disaster. Sansa knew that well enough. Her bannermen had not taken to the idea of a lion in their camp. They would like a lion in the bed of their queen a lot less, but when her blood was up, when they took another faltering step towards the Iron Throne, it was hard to care about what her lords would think. And Jaime kneeling at her feet had only ever ended one way.

His hand was already at her hip and he was nuzzling into the valley where her thigh met her stomach. She had waited too long to be soothed with little kisses and gentle hands, and her fingers caught in the wool and tugged it up. Something in her movements must have betrayed the urgency because he had her smallclothes down and out of the way before she opened her mouth.

Jaime no longer cared very much about what other people thought, about whatever this little ritual with the Queen was, or about what would happen if someone thought to look in. Whatever Sansa’s attachment to him, he had no doubt she would sacrifice him if she needed to, and maybe that added to the thrill of it. Regardless, he was already leaning into her when her hand tangled in his hair again and dragged him the rest of the way.

The golden hand kept her skirts up, the only thing it was good for now, and he pressed his mouth between her legs and kissed her, once. The hand in his hair wound tighter and he pushed his tongue into the pink folds, trying to find the little nub of flesh. It was the only thing that she wanted from him. She didn’t want love. She didn’t even seem to care about his loyalty. But at the day’s end, when she had tasted another small victory, she wanted release.

She bucked as he found the spot, hissing a long breath out between her teeth. Her breathing quickened as his tongue teased at her clit and her fingers gripped convulsively at his head, at the hair that fell through her fingers. She was nearly grinding against his mouth, the slight rocking motion brought to an absolutely minimum by the hand at her hip, keeping her steady. His beard scraped against the soft skin of her thighs as she moved and it only served to inflame her further.

His good hand slipped down and coasted over her pale thigh, pausing to run his thumb over the cord of muscle that tensed with every flick of his tongue. Her leg quivered as his fingers traced up the inside of her thigh and when he started to tease at her entrance, her hands left his head and found the table behind him, clinging to it for support. He groaned into her at that first touch, at the wetness of her, the eager way that she pushed forward, and the vibration of the noise drew a low growl from her throat. He was breathing as hard as she was now, drawing in the musky scent. He pushed two fingers inside her and she writhed, pushing further onto them. He was already aroused, but the warmth, the wetness and the way her muscles tightened around his fingers made his cock stiffen. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over the table and fuck her until they were both exhausted but that wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t how _they_ worked. The wolf did not lie down with the lion. The wolf rode the lion and she didn’t let him forget it. She had nearly all her weight on her hands now, leaning so far forwards that she was almost straddling his head, forcing his mouth harder against her.He changed to broad, hard strokes with his tongue, alternating with very light sucking, and his fingers worked her harder. When she started to cry out, small muffled sounds that she bit back, he couldn’t stand it any more and tore his hand away to grasp at his own cock, trying frantically to ease the unbearable ache of his erection.

A low rumbling growl came from the back of Sansa’s throat and her hand found his hair again for an instant. His hand felt like lead as he dragged it back up, away from the centre of his own raging need and back to hers. His fingers plunged into her again, working quickly and feverishly. He could feel every muscle in her draw tight, trembling with pent up lust, and knew she wasn’t far off. She was panting hard now, her hips rolling as she rode his fingers and he used every last skill that he had. Sansa quivered, and then came, her body arching against his mouth, standing on the tips of her toes. She threw her weight back down on the table as indulged in a couple of very slow, very long licks that made her shiver, and then he drew back. 

He was still shaking with suppressed desire and it took a moment for him to find his voice. “You Grace, by your leave?” Sometimes she would fuck him, but when she didn’t, she seemed content to let him slope off to some quiet corner and let him take matters into his own hands. Sansa’s face was still flushed and she looked down at him with languid eyes, following the movement of his hand as it ghosted over the obvious bulge at his crotch. He shuddered, at the touch or her look, he didn’t know.

“No.” There was the slightest smile just at the corners of her mouth. “I want to watch.”

His fingers found the lacing of his breeches and tore at it, pulling his cock out. It was easy to find the sweet spots, his fingers knew the right places to apply pressure. He could still taste her when he bit his lip and then it was all hard, panting breaths as he ran his tongue around his lip to draw in the taste of her again. His eyes lingered at the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, her mouth - still swollen and red. It didn’t take long, with her stood in front of him like that, the smile widening and turning almost mischievious as she watched. He managed to turn the cry into a low growl as he came, the pent-up desire releasing in an short but ecstatic burst. He was nearly drunk with it. He came over his breeches, at her feet, and was still drawing in great lungfuls of breath of recover when she leaned carefully over and planted a neat kiss at his brow.

There was a brief flash of a wolfish grin. “Ser, you seem to have soiled your whites. I suggest you change before we meet with my bannermen.“  


End file.
